


Guardian

by SilverJuniper



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22789150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverJuniper/pseuds/SilverJuniper
Summary: Crowley is late to dinner and Aziraphale is certain it means something is wrong.  Going to Crowleys flat, he finds his fears are well founded.  A band of angels and demons have decided to take punishment into their own hands.  Aziraphale is not okay with that plan.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89





	Guardian

Aziraphale was worried. Crowley was not one to fail to show up to a dinner date. He wasn't even one to be late without a call and a very good reason. Since there had been no call, and Crowley was ten minutes late, Aziraphale was beginning to suspect the worst. Getting up from the table, he hurried out of the restaurant and turned for Crowley's flat.

The trip to Crowley's didn't take him long. As he went, he planned for the worst and hoped for the best. The higher ups of Heaven and Hell might have deemed the two of them too much trouble for the time being after their 'trials', but as far as he knew, the botched executions had been kept secret. He feared the apparent lack of punishment might have upset a few angels and demons into attempting to remedy the fact themselves.

Aziraphale only hoped it was one or the other, and not both factions they would have to deal with.

The door standing ajar didn't fill Aziraphale with much hope that everything was as it should be. Still, he squared his shoulders and pushed through the door. He stepped into Crowleys flat and had to stop to collect himself. Concern and rage and fear had all welled up in overwhelming amounts, til he could hardly breathe around it. The worst case scenario had been correct, and Aziraphale found himself staring down both angels and demons. And to his ultimate horror, Crowley had been left to face them alone for who knew how long.

His demon had been spread out and pinned up against the wall, like some exotic butterfly on an insect board. Crowley's beautiful black wings were matted with blood where blades had been plunged in at joint and pinion. His arms had been lifted above his head and two more blades pierced his wrists. His legs had been left free, but it was obvious he wouldn't be using them to fight with. Aziraphale could see the struggle it required just to keep Crowley upright. Other cuts and bruises littered his body, visible where his shirt had been ripped down the middle and his jeans were slashed.

Aziraphale swallowed when Crowley lifted his head wearily. Blood seeped from a cut in his hairline, flowing down over one yellow eye. A gag had been tied tightly in his mouth, stretching broken lips. Crowley's serpentine eyes widened at the sight of Aziraphale, panic registering and a soft noise of denial slipping out.

"I told you he'd be along soon," a demon crowed. "Who knows how long these two have been consorting. And then they just call off the Apocalypse that we've all been preparing all these millennia for?"

There was a murmur of assent throughout Crowleys living room. Aziraphale turned a cold look around the uninvited occupants of the flat, counting up five angels and five demons. One of the angels huffed haughtily. "You're a little later than we thought you'd be, Aziraphale. We thought you'd be along to rescue your demon boyfriend sooner. We had to amuse ourselves while we waited."

Aziraphale swallowed as his gaze was drawn back to Crowley. "I fail to see what is so amusing about torture."

"Well," a demon drawled behind him, "we had to show them how to do it properly, but you angels seem to catch on to the basics fairly quickly."

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, frown deepening. More angels and demons were filling up the front room behind him, firmly closing the door to trap them inside. He counted another five of each, before turning back to face Crowley again. "I rather thought we were past all this. Tested and tried in holy water and hell fire wasn't it?"

One of the angels manifested a short spear and pointed it at Aziraphale. "And you two tricked your way out of it, didn't you. By the Almighty God, you shall stand for your punishment." She gestured and Aziraphale felt hands reaching for him from behind. He hurried to step out of their reach, turning to put his back closer to Crowley and putting up his hands. Strategically retreating.

"Now look. There's no way God and Satan possibly managed to agree to this. Not the both of them on the same subject at the same time. I mean, I don't think that's happened since before the Fall."

One of the demons grinned, a frankly grotesque expression. "If the orders came from Them or from Beelzebub and Gabriel makes no matter to us. And even if we decided all this ourselves, it's only 'cause we know you two traitors deserve to pay for all the trouble you've caused. Now, quit your yapping and die already."

Aziraphale bumped back into Crowley and was forced to stop. He slowly, gingerly, took his eyes off the ten demons and ten angels pulling weapons from the ether and making ready to kill them both. Looking over his shoulder, he was met with wide, concern filled yellow eyes. "I'm so sorry my dear." Crowley's brow furrowed, then he choked on a yelp of pain as Aziraphale reached up and jerked the knives out of his demons wrists.

Spinning to face the advancing horde once more, he gripped both blades tight and prepared to fight. Crowleys hands were now free. Hopefully he could free himself the rest of the way and escape. Until then, Aziraphale hadn't been made the Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden for no reason. He was a protector at his core, and he would fight to his last breath to keep Crowley safe.

Crowley roared through the gag as Aziraphale threw himself into battle. Panic banished most of the pain and rage handled the rest. Reaching up, he grabbed hold of one of the knives pinning his wing joint to the wall and pulled. He yanked out the other and took a moment to breathe, trembling. Preparing himself for the next bit as he absently tugged the gag out of his mouth, eyes fixed on the fight in front of him. The knives pinning the ends of his wings were too far to reach, and he couldn't count on anyone to help, so there was only one recourse.

He took a step forward and jerked his wings, ripping free. The step had his knees buckling, sending him crashing to the floor. But he refused to stay there long. Lifting his head, he took stock of the battle swirling around Aziraphale.

His angel was an accomplished fighter, and the silver lining to so many foes in a cramped area was that Aziraphale didn't have to move much to find a place to stick a dagger. Aziraphale was a vision of power and grace, spinning and whirling in a death dealing dance.

A demon got thrown across the flat, crashing against the wall. An angel screamed. Five angels lay dead or dying on the floor and four demons did the same. Crowley got his feet under him with a growl of effort and reached, grasping a demon by their hair and plunging a knife into their back. He tossed them aside without another thought and reached for the next. He was aware of an angel falling back, scrambling to escape the fight while staunching the golden blood gushing from her throat.

Crowley was more focused on the demon that had been thrown earlier coming back in at a sprint. He whipped a wing out to buffet the demon in the face and took advantage of the falter to set himself between the demon and the rest of the battle, driving the knife he held into the demons guts. Crowley bared his teeth and twisted the blade, then shoved the demon away. He turned back to the battle and slit an angels throat.

Then it was over.

Aziraphale looked around at the carnage, pale and shaking. He shined with a divine light, so filled with power it seemed to over flow. His skin glowed. His platinum curls drifted in an ethereal wind. His eyes were such an intense tint of blue Crowley couldn't stand to look directly into his angels eyes for more than a second. He was distracted by the sheer amount of blood Aziraphale was covered in anyways.

Black and gold spattered and smeared everywhere. Both angel and demon blood soaked him so compleatly there would be no saving his beloved coat. Slashes and rends in the fabric only worried Crowley on how much of that angel blood was really Aziraphales.

"Are you alright my dear?"

Crowley glanced up at Aziraphales concern on his behalf, attention barely spared for his own wounds. "I'll be alright angel. You? How hurt are you?" He reached for the sodden jacket streaked in black and gold, ready to slip it off and search out every hurt. Aziraphale took in a deep breath through his nose and let it back out through his mouth as the knives he had been clutching slipped through his fingers to clatter to the floor.

"I might have overdone it a bit."

Aziraphale's light faded as he buckled and Crowley rushed to catch him. He slid through the gore on the floor and managed to get beneath Aziraphale before he could go all the way down, pulling his angel into his lap. "Angel? No. Nononono come on angel, you can't do this to me. I lost you once, I won't stand for it again. Angel? Angel! Aziraphale!" Crowley held Aziraphale with one arm under his shoulders while his other hand searched the angels body, looking for what needed to be healed.

His angel slowly reached up, wincing in pain, but reaching anyways. "I'm sorry my dear. I never meant to hurt you so." Aziraphale swallowed, blinking and pressing tears from the corners of his eyes. His fingertips slid across Crowleys cheek, thumbing beneath the demons yellow eye, and it was only then Crowley realized he was crying too.

Aziraphales hand dropped back down to his stomach with a wince of pain. He gasped, a rasp in his breathing not giving Crowley any comfort. The angels voice came out a whisper, cracked and weak. "Crowley. I n- never got to tell you..."

Crowley felt that curious lurch in his chest. The twist in his stomach that always told him when something was wrong with his angel. "Tell me what angel." Silence followed. "Angel?" Aziraphales eyes stared sightlessly up at him. "Angel please. Tell me what? Please tell me." Crowley dropped his head over Aziraphales body, an anguished scream welling up in his chest before ripping from his throat.

When he ran out of air to scream with he choked down his grief and swallowed it to be dealt with later. He refused to lose his angel. And he knew exactly who to talk to about such a feat. His damaged wings spread. He struggled to his feet, Aziraphales limp body clutched tightly to his chest. Crowley summoned up every ounce of effort he had left, pushing out onto his balcony and taking flight. He didn't care who saw or what they thought. There was only one thing on his mind as he flew for Heaven.

His arrival and subsequent landing was rough. He almost dropped Aziraphale, but managed to keep his hold. He couldn't stop himself from going to his knees, however, gasping for breath. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up and on, trailing droplets of black blood on Heavens pristine white floors.

Crowley strode through Heaven, refusing to be stopped by anyone. Angels came for him in greater and greater numbers, all of them intent on cornering him. Finally, there were just too many to dodge any longer. Crowley stopped, turning in circles, looking in vain for an avenue of progress as he held Aziraphales body tighter.

When it became clear he was trapped, he fell to his knees in overwhelming exhaustion and screamed. "Where are you God?! Show yourself to me!"

Whispers of 'blasphemer' and 'filthy demon' reached his ears. He ignored them. He ignored Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon popping in with weapons drawn. He ignored the tears that began to slip down his face, dripping onto Aziraphales cheeks to mingle with his angels blood and tears.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he roared again, uncaring of how some of the words cracked. "Bring him back! I know you can! If there was ever any good in you, God, bring him back!"

"How dare you question the Lord?!" Gabriel snarled, stepping forward. He reached out a hand towards Aziraphale.

Crowley hissed, shuffling back and cradling the angels head to his shoulder. Fangs grew in his mouth and his eyes flashed fully gold with rage. His wings snapped wide in a threat display, the pain in his joints and pinions forgotten. "Don't touch him! Don't you dare fucking touch him ever again! I'll raze Heaven to the ground before you lay a single finger on him you bastard!"

Michaels cool voice carried forward when Gabriel hesitated. "You'll die before you can make it to your feet, demon." It didn't sound a threat, the way she said it. She was just reminding him of how weak he was and how greatly he was outnumbered.

Crowley ducked his head over Aziraphale, shuddering. His black wings swept forward, hiding him and his angel from sight as he prayed. Begged and pleaded with his entire being. Cried out from the bottom of his damned soul. Around him, he could hear the orders to take him and throw him from the gates of Heaven. He held his angel close and poured out his prayers as tears flowed down his face.

He choked on a sob, whispered pleas stuttering to a halt when he realized everything had stopped around him. No one had touched him. No one spoke. It was like the hosts of Heaven were holding their collective breath. The only sound was the rustling of his feathers as he trembled.

And then he felt it.

The warmth. The all consuming divinity. The overwhelming love that he had been so sure he would never feel again. It washed over him like a tidal wave, terrifying and yet so safe and comfortable he wasn't sure how he had ever survived without it.

Crowley slowly parted his wings to peek through and immediately closed them again, hiding in his feathers and trying to become as small as possible. He flinched when the voice of the Lord filled up the room and crashed over him, rocking him where he knelt.

**"You called for me, my child?"**

Crowley swallowed, forcing out words. He couldn't manage more than a whisper, but he knew She was listening. For once in the thousands of years since his fall, he knew without a shadow of doubt that She heard him. "Please Lord. Bring Aziraphale back. I know you can do it. Please."

**"Even angels and demons must die sometimes."**

Crowley choked, a fresh flood of tears welling. "Then let me take his place. Take my life instead. Just bring him back. Please, he's the best angel you've got. The world is so much darker without him in it."

Gentle hands brushed his feathers. He shivered as the fingers caressed his pinions, banishing all pains and injuries as She carefully parted his wings. He raised his head with difficulty, looking up into the face of the Lord. She smiled, and his breath hitched when he recognized that smile. A smile he was used to seeing on his angel.

**"The world? Or your world?"**

"Please Lord. I'll give you anything you want. Everything I am. I can't live without him. Bring him back. Please."

Her smile became sad. She gently brushed away his tears, speaking softly. **"I'm impressed with you, my child. Even after you fell, you never once turned away from me. Your faith never wavered. Even if you did continue to question."** Her kind eyes looked down at Aziraphale, sadness welling. **"It is true, I can bring him back. But there will be a price."**

"I'll pay it." Crowley said immediately. "Whatever it is you want of me, it's yours. As long as Aziraphale is alive and safe, I'll give my life."

She shook Her head. **"Not your life. I'd only have dear Aziraphale requesting to trade it back for you."** A soft smile pulled at the corners of Her mouth, like She found the thought amusing. **"No. Not your life, Crowley, my child. I'll need everything you've devoted to Aziraphale."**

Crowley swallowed, feeling confliction. She elaborated, though he had worked out what She meant for the most part.

**"The time you have spent together. All your memories of him and his of you. All trust and faith you've given him and that he has given you. All the love you share with one another."** She tilted Her head slightly, gentle eyes fixed on his. **"Can you give me that?"**

"Yes."

There was no hesitation to his answer. In a way, it was a sort of mercy. If he couldn't ever see his angel again, wasn't it better to not even remember what he was missing? He was willing to pay any price, and this one was hardly the worst it could be.

She smiled. **"The deal is done then. I will take Aziraphale. He shall be returned to life and you both shall remain unharmed henceforth. Understood?"**

Crowley jumped when Her tone sharpened, then realized the last hadn't been directed at him as Gabriel sullenly answered. "Yes, my Lord."

**"And let Beelzebub know as well, my child. Plan your little scuffles to your hearts content but leave these two out of it from here on, yes?"** There was another murmur of consent and She nodded in satisfaction. Then She put out Her hands, palms up in request. Crowley swallowed, eyes falling to gaze upon Aziraphales face one last time. Then he had to huff a laugh at the futility of attempting to memorize his angels face. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Aziraphales forehead, then gently handed over his body.

God gathered up Aziraphale as gently as a mother would her child. She waved a hand over him to clean away the blood. Crowley waited, holding his breath for his angel to start breathing and open his eyes. He jumped when God cupped his chin in Her hand, lifting his gaze up to meet Hers. **"He won't remember you, my child. Best to go home, before he wakes."** He knew She was right. As much as leaving now would hurt, facing an Aziraphale that didn't know him would hurt worse.

Crowley got to his feet, turned, and walked back out of Heaven the same way he'd come in. No one stopped him. They all just stared, making way for him. He went straight home, not stopping to even question why he had been out in the first place until he was standing in the middle of his flat. Everything was as it should be. Nothing was out of place or indicative of why he had left for the day. He just couldn't recall, and couldn't find it in him to dwell either, so he made ready to crawl into bed for a very long nap. He only briefly contemplated the aching hollow in his chest, before that too was forgotten.

Six Thousand Years Later

Aziraphale locked up the book shop and turned to hail a cab. He had gotten absorbed reading and lost track of time. If he didn't hurry, he would miss his meeting. The ride to the park didn't take long. He was blessed with good traffic, and he tipped the driver well before shutting the door and hurrying along. He spotted the one he was meeting without much searching, lounged on a bench and glaring at the ducks.

He settled in on the other side of the bench and tugged his waistcoat straight. "What's this all about Crowley?"

"It's about stopping the Apocalypse, angel."

Up above, God looked down on Her ineffable plan and saw that it was good.


End file.
